She gripped with both hands at
the iron railing.
"Come!"
No! No! No! It was impossible. Her hands clutched the iron in
frenzy. Amid the seas she sent a cry of anguish.
"Eveline! Evvy!"
He rushed beyond the barrier and called to her to follow. He was
shouted at to go on but he still called to her. She set her white face
to him, passive, like a helpless animal. Her eyes gave him no sign
of love or farewell or recognition.
AFTER THE RACE
THE cars came scudding in towards Dublin, running evenly like
pellets in the groove of the Naas Road. At the crest of the hill at
Inchicore sightseers had gathered in clumps to watch the cars
careering homeward and through this channel of poverty and
inaction the Continent sped its wealth and industry. Now and again
the clumps of people raised the cheer of the gratefully oppressed.
Their sympathy, however, was for the blue cars--the cars of their
friends, the French.
The French, moreover, were virtual victors. Their team had
finished solidly; they had been placed second and third and the
driver of the winning German car was reported a Belgian. Each
blue car, therefore, received a double measure of welcome as it
topped the crest of the hill and each cheer of welcome was
acknowledged with smiles and nods by those in the car. In one of
these trimly built cars was a party of four young men whose spirits
seemed to be at present well above the level of successful
Gallicism: in fact, these four young men were almost hilarious.
They were Charles Segouin, the owner of the car; Andre Riviere, a
young electrician of Canadian birth; a huge Hungarian named
Villona and a neatly groomed young man named Doyle. Segouin
was in good humour because he had unexpectedly received some
orders in advance (he was about to start a motor establishment in
Paris) and Riviere was in good humour because he was to be
appointed manager of the establishment; these two young men
(who were cousins) were also in good humour because of the
success of the French cars. Villona was in good humour because
he had had a very satisfactory luncheon; and besides he was an
optimist by nature. The fourth member of the party, however, was
too excited to be genuinely happy.
He was about twenty-six years of age, with a soft, light brown
moustache and rather innocent-looking grey eyes. His father, who
had begun life as an advanced Nationalist, had modified his views
early. He had made his money as a butcher in Kingstown and by
opening shops in Dublin and in the suburbs he had made his
money many times over. He had also been fortunate enough to
secure some of the police contracts and in the end he had become
rich enough to be alluded to in the Dublin newspapers as a
merchant prince. He had sent his son to England to be educated in
a big Catholic college and had afterwards sent him to Dublin
University to study law. Jimmy did not study very earnestly and
took to bad courses for a while. He had money and he was popular;
and he divided his time curiously between musical and motoring
circles. Then he had been sent for a term to Cambridge to see a
little life. His father, remonstrative, but covertly proud of the
excess, had paid his bills and brought him home. It was at
Cambridge that he had met Segouin. They were not much more
than acquaintances as yet but Jimmy found great pleasure in the
society of one who had seen so much of the world and was reputed
to own some of the biggest hotels in France. Such a person (as his
father agreed) was well worth knowing, even if he had not been
the charming companion he was. Villona was entertaining also--a
brilliant pianist--but, unfortunately, very poor.
The car ran on merrily with its cargo of hilarious youth. The two
cousins sat on the front seat; Jimmy and his Hungarian friend sat
behind. Decidedly Villona was in excellent spirits; he kept up a
deep bass hum of melody for miles of the road The Frenchmen
flung their laughter and light words over their shoulders and often
Jimmy had to strain forward to catch the quick phrase. This was
not altogether pleasant for him, as he had nearly always to make a
deft guess at the meaning and shout back a suitable answer in the
face of a high wind. Besides Villona's humming would confuse
anybody; the noise of the car, too.
Rapid motion through space elates one; so does notoriety; so does
the possession of money.
1 comment